Gastien Pt 1

by Caddy Rowland

  Gastien once again found himself fighting tears. It was going to be so cold outside…where would he go? Would he have to sleep in the dirty alleys? What would he eat? How many people would try to hurt or rob him?

  The priest put his hand on Gastien’s arm. “I want you to listen carefully to me. Every Thursday night is soup night at the cathedral. You are invited to join us for as long as you need to. It is not much, I know. As for how you will make it, I wish I had a magic answer. You have determination and drive. I will confess that I looked at some of your work. You are very good! Just take it one day at a time. There are libraries, there are museums. Try to sleep in those, in out of the way corners. If you can just make it through the next few cold months, then spring will help you. You mentioned that you sell your drawings for food. Keep doing that. Perhaps you will get a break.” The priest felt like an imposter. How dare he tell this young man he would make it? How little he could help him! Sometimes he, too, doubted. Especially when he was faced with a situation like this.

  Gastien swallowed hard. “I understand. I will probably take you up on soup night more than once.” His heart pounded in his chest. It was already dark, where would he go tonight? It was raining, too.

  “Gastien, how about this? I have a bathtub. It may be quite some time before you get to fully clean up again. Would you like to bathe tonight? Then, you can scrub your clothes in the tub and hang them by the fire. I will give you a priest’s robe to wear. You can sleep here tonight. I will make you a spot in front of the fire. Plus, we do have coal heat. It is nice and warm in here. Between the coal stove and keeping a fire burning, you will be warm. You can start out tomorrow clean, and in freshly laundered clothing. It is not much, but it will help. In fact, if you wish, I can shave your face for you or let you use a mirror.”

  “I would very much appreciate the bath and the chance to clean my clothes,” said Gastien gratefully. He smiled. “Who would have ever thought I would be wearing a priest’s robe?” They both laughed. Gastien sobered. “Merci beaucoup. I very much appreciate it. I am sorry that I had to sneak around in the cathedral.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I understand. I truly do. Now, let’s get the tub filled. Oh, the wonders of running water! I will leave the quarters after laying out a robe, so that you have privacy. I will come back in about an hour. That will give you time to soak. Do you want a shave first?”

  “Non, I don’t think so. I think I want to keep the beard. It is not how I want to look, but I think I need it for warmth. It also makes me look more toughened.”

  The priest smiled. This young man hardly looked tough!

  “I know what you are thinking, Father. But, trust me. You have not seen me without the beard. The words I heard on the street were “cute, delicious, darling, sweet”…not exactly words you want other street people thinking, or the people that try to take advantage of them. I will have enough trouble surviving without that added problem.”

  Father Fournier agreed. The priest set about getting the bath ready. After he left, Gastien undressed and got into the tub. Ahhhhh. It felt so good to just be in clean, hot water! He could easily fall asleep. The last thing he wanted to do was have the Father return to him asleep with his mouth open and his bite floating in the water! Furthermore, it would be heaven to scrub his hair. Gastien slid down into the water, immersing his head. He used soap on it, scrubbing briskly. Then he dunked again and again. Satisfied that his hair was clean, he washed his face, scrubbing at his beard. Perhaps he should shave, after all. He would look less threatening to people he wanted to sell to.

  The priest had placed a straightedge and mirror by the tub in case he changed his mind. He decided to shave. As his face reappeared, he felt a little better. At least he should be able to sell some drawings from now until New Years! He winked at himself in the mirror, just to make himself laugh. Damn! He did look too sweet. He was suddenly very glad he had a long knife.

  He finished up by scrubbing his whole body, then allowing himself to just relax for a few minutes. It felt so peaceful to just empty his mind of everything except colors. His mind was always entertaining new ways to put color on canvas, new ways to see things. After about fifteen more minutes, he got out of the tub, dried off and donned his priestly robe.

  The Father had warmed up a huge bucket on the stove for his clothing so that he would not have to use his dirty tub water. He let the tub drain and began to wash his clothes, using the soap flakes Father had left out. Then he filled the tub with cold water to rinse things. Wringing them out, he then draped them across the hearth.

  Father Fournier arrived just as Gastien was finishing up. “Gastien,” he said, “you look nice and clean. Also very tired. Let me make up a nice nest for you here in front of the hearth.” Gastien went to use the toilet area and when he came back his bed was ready. The priest was ready for bed as well.

  “Sleep well, young man. Dream about paintings and other things young men like you like to dream about.” Father winked, and then went to bed.

  Gastien found that the makeshift bed was warm and quite nice. Knowing it was the best he would have for some time, he wanted to luxuriate in it for awhile, but fell asleep almost immediately. Thankfully, his dreams were kind to him. There would be time enough for worry in the morning.

  In the meantime, Father Fournier lay awake. He felt sick about having to force Gastien out into the cruel streets of Paris. The forty-year-old priest had been serving the church for eighteen years. He had seen so many homeless, from the aged to the very young. Dozens of young men came to Paris seeking fame or fortune. Ninety-nine out of one hundred were chewed up and spat out into the gutter. Not even great talent guaranteed a person that they would get off the streets. It took great talent at whatever you were pursuing, but also determination, savvy, intense drive…and just plain luck. Or, maybe it was not luck. Maybe just a sixth sense of knowing when the smallest window of opportunity opened, along with the ability to jump through.

  He looked over at Gastien asleep on the floor. The moonlight played across the young man’s face. He slept peacefully, his long, black lashes brushing his cheek. Sweet Lord, he looked like an angel sleeping there. What a beautiful boy he was! Now that he was clean shaven, he looked so vulnerable, so young! What horrors were awaiting him in the alleys of Paris? Would he be able to defend himself and keep his sanity?

  Father, forgive me, but at times like this even I doubt if you exist. What loving God allows a child to grow up being treated like this boy’s father treated him? What great entity sees to it that the same boy is blessed with the looks of an angel, yet makes sure he ends up in the back streets of hell? Do you even notice us at all? Father, I have seen so much heartache here. I should be hardened to it. But, this boy! This boy with the huge eyes …they will haunt me forever if you don’t see to it that he survives.

  He looked over at Gastien again, who sighed, turning in his sleep. What more can I do to help him? I can’t let him stay in the cathedral, and I will be fired if he stays here. People will think the worst! He thought for awhile. I will feed him a good breakfast in the morning. Then, I will give him the new sweater I got last year. It is a heavy, warm sweater and a perfect color for him. I was saving it for this winter, but I will give it to him to help keep warm. Also, long underwear, warmer socks, and liners for his gloves. And one more blanket. I will give him my warmest blanket.

  I can’t make his load too heavy to carry, either. The priest paused to consider. Well, he is young and strong. That should not be too much for him. Soon he will be wearing most of the clothing both night and day. Hopefully, by spring he will have a job. Then he won’t need to carry his belongings on his back any longer.

  Again he stopped. He began to pray. He prayed that Gastien would find work and a place to stay. He could not think beyond that, about Gastien’s dream to paint. He just wanted him off the streets. It was a simple prayer. But he would never pray harder in his life.

  XX

  In the morning, Father Fournier stayed in b
ed until Gastien woke up. He did not want to risk waking him, because he knew that tonight sleep would not be easy for Gastien to find. This was Father Fournier’s day off, anyway. He was only one of several priests on staff at Notre Dame. No one would miss him getting up early.

  Finally, at about half past nine, Gastien stirred and opened his eyes. He looked around, saw the priest was awake and smiled at him. He was trying to be brave, but Father could see the raw fear that came into his eyes as Gastien became more awake. They both knew that he would soon be on the streets with nowhere to go. Father smiled back.

  “Good morning, young Gastien. Did you sleep well?”

  “Oui, Father, I really did. I thank you for the warm bed.”

  “You are welcome. I wish you could stay. Unfortunately, it would look inappropriate. I would lose my career. I am sorry,” he said simply.

  “Oui, I understand, Father.” Gastien looked away. “I really should be going anyway.”

  “Non, don’t rush! I want to feed you a nice, warm breakfast before you go. Also, I have a few things for you that I would like you to have in order to stay warm.”

  “You have done enough, Father. Please don’t embarrass me,” Gastien said softly.

  “Son, don’t be ashamed. Even Christ humbled himself! Maybe you don’t believe he was the Son of God, but you know he existed. Even if he was only human, you must admit he was a great man. And he was not too proud to humble himself.”

  “If I humble myself, Father, what do I have left?”

  “Why, you have everything you had when you came to the city, Son! Except that now, if you humble yourself, you allow another person the blessing of helping another human being. Please don’t deny me that blessing. I can’t do much for you, but I can do these things. Please accept and be at peace with it. Please.”

  Gastien was silent for a moment. “Ok, Father. I accept. I could use the warm things. Also, I sure would love a nice breakfast. I can’t believe that I am hungry again, after all that I ate last night!”

  “Ha! You are, what did you say? Eighteen? A young man your age can eat like an army! It will be my pleasure to make sure you are full again this morning. Why don’t you go take care of needs while I start some breakfast? When you get back, you can set the table, and then fold up the bedding you slept on.”

  When Gastien returned fully dressed, it was to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying. His mouth watered as he went about his chores. When they sat down to eat, he put away six eggs, a pound of bacon and five pieces of toast! He did not allow himself to be embarrassed about it, because Father made it clear that he wanted him to eat as much as he could.

  When he was done, he accepted the long underwear, socks and glove liners. The sweater was beautiful! He was ready to say he could not accept something so obviously never worn. Then he stopped and simply said, “It is beautiful! I will wear it proudly, thinking of you.”

  “And I will think of you every day, Gastien.” Suddenly the priest smiled. “Say, I have one more gift for you. Each priest divides up the portion of the offerings during the year that is to be given to charity during the Noël holiday season. Each priest gets an equal portion to give as he wishes. I would like to donate my share to you.” He walked over to his bureau and got out the money. He handed it to Gastien. “Put it in your inside pants pocket, Son. This money will feed you for a month.”

  Gastien could not believe the kindness of this man. The money would be huge for him! He opened his mouth to protest. Then he remembered what the Father had told him about allowing another to give. He could see the happiness in the priest’s eyes and knew that the money was given in love. “Merci beaucoup, Father. I will put it to good use.” Then Gastien did something very foreign to himself. He embraced the Father, hugging him tightly to his chest.

  They had eaten mostly in silence. There was not much left to say. After he accepted the gifts, Gastien knew it was time to leave. He tried very hard not to cry. He concentrated on putting his tarp on his back, his tote over his shoulder.

  “Father, I think it is time to go now. I want to thank you again. I will see you some Thursdays until I find work.” Gastien paused, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. “You have been a true ami.”

  The priest reached out, hugging Gastien to him again. When he let go, he said solemnly, “Go in peace, Gastien. I know you will make it. I believe in you. Always remember, no matter what, that you will make it. Please be attentive to things around you and take great care. And please, don’t be a stranger. Do come to see me once in awhile. Make it a promise.”

  Gastien nodded, turning away. He could not speak. Some way, wondering how, he managed to walk out the door. He used the facilities once more before heading down the road. He had no idea what he was going to do when night fell.

  XXI

  It is easy to forget that Gastien was only eighteen. He had never spent a night alone until he left for Paris. Although in many ways it was a blessing and relief to be gone from his father’s house, he still had to develop the skills of living on his own. He had done well so far in creatively solving the problem of surviving, but he was now going to be put to a much harsher test. The winter would not be kind to Gastien. The decisions he would have to make were decisions one cannot imagine making, until they have gone hungry for quite some time. He had the determination and the will to make it so far, but those qualities would be sorely tested.

  As he walked, he realized that he needed to sell as many drawings as he could while he smelled good and looked clean. He had better do that until two o’clock, when he would meet Mic. He would talk to Mic about what happened. He already knew he could not stay with Mic and his roommates at school. If the school found out that they were allowing someone who was not a student to live with them, they could all be expelled. But, perhaps Mic would let him keep his art supplies there. That would help him immensely. He would not have to worry about them being stolen while he slept. They would also be inside, away from any snow, rain, or freezing temperatures. He could pick them up in the mornings and drop them back off evenings. If that worked out, he would then be able to just worry about keeping himself and his few survival belongings intact.

  When Gastien got to the park, he searched through his tote. Counting how many drawings he had ready to sell, he found that he had thirty seven of them. He would try to sell as many today as he could, or use them to show people his work, asking if he could draw them. He needed to get as much money as possible for food, because without consciously saying it, Gastien had already decided most of his money from the priest would go for more canvas and supplies.

  Painting had to remain top priority, no matter how hungry he got. Without painting, he would be just another bum. His talent was the key to getting off the streets and into that studio. One step at a time, he thought. First, asking Mic to let me store my supplies, then buying more. Next, I need to draw and paint to sell my work for a song, so that I can eat. I need to work quickly before I look so awful people won’t allow me to approach. He looked around. I have about four hours before Mic comes. I need to make a sale, maybe more. My life depends on it.

  As the morning progressed, Gastien found himself using his best sales skills. Time after time he was turned down. Every so often, though, someone would buy. What they paid for a drawing he had already done, or for a quick sketch, should have made them ashamed. Gastien did not show any disappointment. He could not be fussy. He needed whatever he could get for money. However, he did not sign the drawings. He decided that if people were going to pay next to nothing then they would not benefit later, should his art become valuable. It was one small way that he could protest the paltry way people treated street artists.

  Soon, Mic would be on his way. Gastien had sold two of his drawings and had done one drawing for a woman. The money paid for these three drawings would buy one bowl of soup and a small piece of cheese. He refused to let that depress him, though. He needed to stay focused.

  Mic noticed Gastien with his tote by hi
s side and his tarp on his back. He immediately got a sick feeling in his stomach. Gastien must have gotten kicked out of Notre Dame! He hurried over, his eyes questioning.

  “Mic. Needless to say, what you are thinking has indeed happened. I got found out last night.”

  Mic sat down next to Gastien. “How did it happen?”

  Gastien told Mic about arriving at the cathedral and finding his belongings gone. Mic sucked in his breath, feeling the pain of loss, until he remembered that Gastien did have his belongings now. Mic listened as Gastien told him about Father Fournier’s kindness.

  “The Father was truly a man of God. I am so glad he is the one who “discovered” you,” breathed Mic.

  Gastien laughed nervously. “Oui. This is awful, but at least I was fed, given warm clothing and money. Things could have been much worse.”

  “Now you will have money for at least a month. You will eat. But where will you stay? I wish to God I could allow you to stay with us, but I can’t risk all of us being kicked out of school. I am almost graduated from there, Gastien, I can’t take that chance. Nor can I expect my roommates to! I just can’t!” Mic said sadly.

  Gastien put his hand on Mic’s shoulder. “Mic, don’t beat yourself up about it. I fully understand, believe me. I would do the same in your shoes. You are already doing a whole lot for me. I don’t expect you to take me in. Understand? We are good here.”

  Mic met his eyes. “Gastien, merci. I just wish things were different.”

  “Hell, me too, Mic. For starters, I wish we were both rich and famous!” They both smiled. Gastien paused, and then said, “If I may ask one more thing of you, it would really help. There may be a good reason that you can’t do this, but I am wondering if I could just keep my art supplies at your place. That is all. If I could have a safe, dry place for them that would be a huge worry off of my shoulders. Then I could just worry about food and shelter for me! Is that a possibility?”